Hot Cocoa
by Mirsa
Summary: Ryan is still plagued by nightmares, but maybe a little late-night company can help ...


The room was dark, moonlight dripping between the wooden slates of the shades closed over the windows that were hung with navy curtains patterned with a timber wolf gray pinstripe. The house AC kicked in, and the room filled with a fresh wave of cool air and the gentle hum of the circulation. The sound of a dog breathing easily in peaceful sleep came from the dim shade at the foot of the king-sized bed. All these things told Ryan Buell that he was indeed awake, but the images that had been parading through his night's dreams only moments before still lingered in his mind's eye, and he shook his head, trying to make the phantoms flee.

Glancing to his left, Ryan blinked his eyes, squinting as he tried to make out the glowing numbers on his bedside clock. _2:00 AM_. As he slid his hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes, Ryan noticed that his sheet and pillow were slightly damp, a sure sign he'd been sweating …. again.

_Damn it, not again. The same thing night after night. What __**is**__ this?!_ the question resonated, a familiar one to the young Penn State grad. Making sure to slide his feet out from beneath the light paws of the peacefully-breathing Xander, Ryan slowly pushed himself into a sitting position; actually, it was more like a forward slump, as he hung his head, rubbing his temples which were starting to throb with the customary headache.

_God this is getting annoying. Actually, it's starting to piss me off. Augh, this stupid headache. I hope I have some Ibuprofen left_ Moving with assured familiarity, Ryan slid from beneath his comforter. As he moved towards the foot of the bed, Xander woke and raised his head, whining softly in what Ryan imagined to be a concerned tone. Reaching out his hand, Ryan gave the dog a swift, assuring rub behind the ears, whispering "go back to sleep, I'll be right back", a command which the brown dog obeyed, laying his head down with a sigh and returning to whatever it is dogs dream about. Ryan continued on his path to the attached bath – after all, his was the master suite. But a quick search of the medicine cabinets and closet stores proved futile; as suspected, there was no Advil, Tylenol, or Ibuprofen to be found in Ryan's room.

_Maybe there's some in the hall bathroom …_

It was when he stepped out of his room and noticed a dim glow coming from a doorway between him and the other end of the hall, where Sergey's room was, that he realized he wasn't the only one up. Headache temporarily forgotten, Ryan went to see who he was sharing the wee hours with.

"Sam?" his voice was hoarse with the night's disuse, and he had to clear his throat and speak the name again before it got the attention of the young woman sitting curled up on the couch, another dog , a small Maltese terrier, curled up on her feet and snoring as it twitched in its sleep. Her face was bathed in the electric glow of a laptop screen when she glanced up at the sound of Ryan's call, and she sought his face for only a moment before a gentle smile curved her lips, and she jerked her head slightly, an indication for him to come join her.

The Maltese woke as Ryan approached and stood in front of the couch. Sam nudged the small canine with the foot she'd extracted, and the dog got the hint for once. As the Maltese vacated its spot, walking across the girl's lap to burrow into her other side, Ryan took its place (but did not sit on her feet as the dog had done). There was a few seconds of getting settled and re-settled for all three, but at last the dog was once again snoring, Sam's laptop was back on her lap and pulsing gently, and Ryan was slumped back against the couch, the comforting presence of human and dog helping drive the headache and phantoms even further away.

"Ryan, what are you doing up? It's like, two in the morning." Her voice was hushed as she spoke, punctuated by the slight tapping of computer keys. Ryan cracked an eye and grinned at her.

"I could ask the same of you. What are _you_ doing up at this hour, and with your laptop even?" He had to repress a laugh at her replying snort and refusal to give him a real answer until he gently poked her in the ribs, causing her torso to bend away in an effort to escape the tickling sensation.

"I'm a night owl, you know that. Besides," she pointed to her head with one finger without looking up, "no classes and its Friday." She stopped what she was doing to glance at the young man at her side. "But you … you guys got in really late and then you had to put away all the stuff and God knows what else you were doing. I saw your light on at midnight, Ry. And now you're up at two?"

Ryan groaned; he was trying to forget his dreams and the headache had just decided to make its glorious comeback. It didn't help that his girlfriend was looking at him with a genuine look of concern, and he knew he would never be able to give an answer that would satisfy her unless it was the truth. Sam had this evil little ability of being able to see right through him somehow, and while he didn't know how she did it and it was annoying as hell, he might have possibly loved her less if she couldn't have done so. So he dismissed all thoughts of comforting white lies, and opened his mouth to tell her of the dreams that had begun to plague him so often.

She beat him to the punch when she announced quietly, "it's the dreams again, isn't it." And it wasn't a question, but a statement. Ryan let his tired eyes slide closed again, his head fell heavily against the couch as his spine relaxed, and he curved against the cool, smooth leather. His Adam's apple moved slightly as he swallowed.

"Yeah."

Sam moved then, placing her laptop off her lap and onto the glass-topped coffee table sitting in front of the couch, and gently rearranging the dog on her left as she shifted and turned more to her right to face Ryan as head-on as she could get.

"The same ones?"

He nodded. "The eyes, the voice, the darkness. Same every time."

"It's starting to wear on you." Her voice sounding so sagely wise made Ryan force his head up and turn to look Sam in the eye. She was a frank person, not often beating around the bush, even those delicate in matter. However, she was not harsh or cutting; her frankness was endearing, making those she connected with feel as if she were really trying to understand them instead of just comfort. Right now, her face was concerned, her eyes wide and gentle, and her lips parted softly in what Ryan mentally called her "let me at least try to help" look. Yet, as caring as it was, he could see the cunning light in her eyes, could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she studied his face and body language. There were few people in the world who could have seen him for only a few minutes, and known the cause and the resulting effects of the tensed vibe he was emitting – the strongest one being his own mother, followed by his brothers and closest friends (yes, that almost include Xander-puppy).

"There should be some Ibuprofen in the hall bathroom. Wait a minute, I'll be right back." Sometimes Ryan swore the girl could read minds, and a tired grin teased the corners of his mouth as he let himself relax. The dog even deign him worthy to be used as a heater and pillow for the small creature quickly darted over to Ryan's side, once Sam had popped up from the couch and vanished down the hall. The young man took comfort in absently stroking the soft, fluffy fur colored in white and making it look like a puffball.

"Here. The meds will help your head, and the drink will help your nerves." He felt the back of the couch sink as Sam draped her arms over the furniture, holding in her hands a couple Ibuprofen and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. He glanced up to see her smile – "Swiss Miss?", "But of course" – and took the pills, tossing them back and almost dry-swallowing them before he remembered the frothy mug still in her hands. He sighed in contentment as the steamy liquid produced a glow of warmth in his stomach that spread to the rest of his body, and he heard Sam's quiet, odd-sounding-but-still-adorable chuckle as she settled back on the couch.

"You've told me about that one before, so unless it would help, you don't have to talk about it."

"Actually, all I want to do right now is sleep."

"That shouldn't be hard, once the meds kill your headache, right?"

"Huh, I wish. I don't know if it's me being cautious or what, but my brain keeps telling me to not sleep."

Sam shifted next to him, and he watched as she curled her legs up to sit almost-Lotus-style. "You know, you're not a coward if you're scared of going to sleep. I mean, I'm scared of the dark myself. At twenty-one, I'm _scared of the dark_." If he hadn't been so tired, Ryan would have laughed at the bug-eyed look Sam was giving for emphasis.

"Heck, I even use a nightlight half the time." She stopped her tirade to glance at Ryan; he was regarding her with slight amusement. "Seriously, dude! It's not funny, but I'm no coward for it. I know the things that lurk in the dark. They're not to be messed with; at least, not without some sort of protection."

Her hand rested on his forearm as he took a swig of his cocoa, and he looked at her from around the mug. Unwillingly, he felt his arm muscles tremble a little, and her grip increased a hair's breadth when she felt it too. He avoided her gaze now, as he leaned forward slightly to place the mug on one of the cork coasters on the coffee table. For all she'd done in just a few minutes, it still hadn't banished the fears from his mind – not fully, at least. Ryan groaned, leaning forward and propping his elbows against his knees as he rubbed his face out of frustration.

"It doesn't matter that it's the same each time. It never changes. That means _I know what's coming_. And yet it still nags me constantly."

Her voice was soft; he almost missed it when she spoke. "The knowing what's going to happen?"

He inhaled slowly, trying to let it out with his exhale. "The fact that I am in reality afraid to sleep at night; the fact that I fear in my dreams the things I face every day in PRS."

A dog's slightly whistling breathing, the house AC kicking in again, the click and whir of a laptop at sleep. All the sounds were comforting, once again letting him know he was safe in his house, surrounded by familiarity and friends. A shiver still ran down his spine when Ryan thought about the dreams he would have to face in order to get the rest his body so desperately needed. The subject matter wasn't so much it - there was something nagging in the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. If only he could figure out what his subconscious was trying to tell him, maybe he could get a decent night's sleep for once in several months, just for once …

"Well, if sleeping with puppy doesn't help, I'm pretty sure the hot cocoa won't either… which leaves only one option." The finality in her words caused Ryan to lift his head and glance at the young woman sharply. She was noting the things around the couple; laptop, dog, mug of congealing cocoa, and seemed to come to some decision.

"C'mon, you." She grabbed hold of one of his hands with both of hers as she popped up from the couch, pulling gently and urging him to get up. "You need sleep, and I think a pretty fair amount of it." Confusion settled over Ryan as he allowed the girl to lead him by the hand past the lit lamp (she used her foot to kick the floor switch) and the room was plunged into moonlit gloom. As his eyes adjusted, Ryan could make out Sam's face, hovering in front of him and occasionally vanishing, as she made sure not to bump into anything as she led him back to his room.

The Maltese now joined Xander as Sam made Ryan return to his side of the bed and lie down. Acting like a mother, she pulled the comforter and sheet up past his waist but not quite to his chest. The action caused Ryan to smirk slightly.

"Oh yes, Sam, tucking me in is _sure_ to keep the monsters at bay."

He must have hit upon something with his statement, because the next look that came onto her face was a very devious, sneaky one. He knew she was in the midst of executing a plan when she responded, "well, if the tucking in doesn't work, then I'll just have to stay here myself to keep them away so you can sleep." More surprised than he should have been, considering her words, Ryan watched as she nimbly darted around to the other side of the bed and slithered beneath the comforter until she lay next to him, her head lying easily on his shoulder, left shoulder pressed against his ribs as she used him as a pillow. The surprise melted away, replaced by a grin as Sam's plan finally became clear to Ryan. He brought his arm out from under the coverings, turning her over to wrap it around her shoulders and pull her closer to him; she in turn draped her arm across his waist.

Her voice was a triumphant whisper. "_Now_ let's see those monsters get at you!"

Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, Ryan nestled back into his pillows with his girlfriend in his arms. "I don't think they'd dare anymore."

"Hey Serge. How's Ryan? Any better?" The Russian snorted softly, partly in amusement but also partly in concern. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had noticed the team's stalwart leader had been recently plagued by restless nights. The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Heather, but he guessed it was more than a two-person call – he could hear breathing that didn't belong to either of them.

"He woke up again last night, but I think he actually got some sleep this time."

"Really? I thought nothing helped." The knowing question in the girl's voice made Serge wonder how she knew nothing ever helped Ryan sleep when she didn't even share the house with the man, but he shrugged.

_Feminine intuition, I guess_ "I think he finally found something that does work, actually."

"Ooooh, do tell." The bright perk in the new voice made Serge smile; he'd been right about Katrina listening in on another line. But as he answered, he fought to keep a grin off his mouth.

"Let's just say he found the perfect sleeping pill."

Serge could almost sense the puzzlement coming through the phone as he glanced through the crack he was holding open between the doorframe and door that led into Ryan's room. It was heading towards later in the afternoon, but since they had nothing pressing and no previous plans, Serge decided his friend deserved all the rest he could get. After all, it had taken this long for the PRS director to find a remedy for his nightmares and hardly-adequate sleep.

Sergey finally let the smile slide to his lips as he watched the couple sleeping peacefully for a few more moments. Sam was nestled close to Ryan, her slender frame looking small and protected next to the man's larger body with his arm wrapped gently around her shoulders, holding her head close enough to where his chin rested on top of it. Despite appearances, however, Serge knew it was the girl's presence that made his friend's sleep possible and he knew he'd never be able to really thank her for what she'd done.

"We owe you, Sam. You've no idea how many prayers you just answered." The words were whispered, not even disturbing the canines still slumbering with the pair as Serge gently pulled the door to, before turning away and putting the phone back to his ear, ready to alleviate the confusion of the other core PRS members.

_I hope Heather doesn't squeal me deaf for this one …_


End file.
